The Ultimate Erotica Collection: 3 Books in 1 - Destined to Play, The Silver Chain, Run to You. Primula Bond
limbs are not being forced outwards. They fall limp as the tension fades. We are floating calmly, beautifully, wonderfully and freely in the world. It is so peaceful. My stomach resettles itself somewhere near my bellybutton, although I can’t confirm it returns to its original position. Close enough, though. I am smiling now, relieved and thrilled with the experience. I’m happy, free, exhilarated, overwhelmed to be alive. Warm tears flood my eyes as emotion releases from within.
Thump, thump, my knees buckle underneath me as the ground pushes up into my body with a jolt and then … nothingness.
Unsure of my consciousness, I find myself wrapped in a hug with my feet barely touching the ground. Arms securely around me. A hug. A real hug. I feel him unclipping me and turning me to face him. I bury my head deeply into the chest I know to be Jeremy’s and allow the intoxication of adrenaline and relief to wash over me. I shake. I bury my head harder. Arms tighten around me. I sob. And sob. I can’t stop. I’m overflowing. Trembling. Shaking. Long, hard, full body sobs. For a long moment in time.
There are no words shared.
The arms don’t let go, still holding on tight.
They don’t let go. There is no need to speak. These arms won’t leave me.
Breathing eventually returns to normal via deep sighs.
After a long time, a finger lifts my chin, lips lightly brush my lips and linger for a moment. The arm securely wraps around my body and leads me away, half walking, half carrying.
No words are necessary as our bodies move in unison. Then quiet preparation going on around me as I am lowered onto a blanket. The sun is warm, the breeze gentle. I am still blind. I know that I will be until the forty-eight hours are over. I’m at ease with it now. I no longer have the will or desire to fight it. I accept it. I am calm.
The preparation noise has stopped. I remain still.
No noise. No words. Just the wind, the birds, the smell of salt in the air, ocean waves gently moving back and forth to their own universal rhythm. My shoulders are lowered to the ground. A light touch on my cheek. I feel a body closing in on mine. I try to find a face. I do. I pull it close to mine and inhale its scent. I pull it to my lips, to my tongue. I need this face. I need to kiss it deeply, to penetrate its mouth. I need to convey the depth of the emotion I feel. To transfer the longing, the urging, the deep force within the core of my being which has lain dormant for so many years, so this face has some understanding of what it has done to me in the past, what it is doing to me in the present, of what I am going through.
My body is writhing and throbbing under his body. There are too many barriers between us, physical ones. I’m not close enough. It’s intense and it’s frustrating. I struggle to find ways in, to find some way to remove the barriers. I need closeness. I crave it. I can’t. I’m foiled. My hands don’t make it, they are lost, prevented, kissed. The throbbing continues deep within me. My hands are held tight, trapped under the weight of his body. Like the sobbing earlier, the throbbing also eases with time. My breath returns, my heartbeat slows, eventually. As does his.
‘You are overwhelming, all-encompassing, all-consuming.’ He slowly breathes into my ear. His words heighten the intensity between my legs as I again wait for the ache to subside. He could always trigger this pre-orgasmic feeling over the years with a look, a touch, a comment. But rather than being diluted over the years, it has now reached a concentration I never imagined possible.
‘Do you feel the same way?’
I nod, too overcome to speak, not daring to acknowledge the underlying truth in his words. ‘What have you done to me?’ is all I can manage to barely whisper.
‘You do know I love you, Alexa.’ His tone is serious, his voice overflowing with emotion.
‘Yes, I do. You know I love you, too.’
‘It’s strange, isn’t it, having a love like ours that isn’t based on traditional love per se.’
‘It always has been … strange between us … intense … playful … intoxicating …’
‘Our unexplained, unreconciled love …’
‘At least we understood that at a very young age.’ Or did we? I wonder silently.
Jeremy’s mood seems to have shifted. I’m used to him switching from playfulness to challenging, from forcefulness to reflection, but this is slightly different. He seems to be talking to me on one level and lost in his own thoughts at the same time. The dark undercurrent still lingers beneath his words. I don’t know if I’m unwilling or unable to explore further. Not being allowed to ask questions doesn’t help especially as I keep getting in trouble when I do. And now he says he loves me. My roller-coaster of blackness is becoming as much emotional as it is physical.
I feel exhausted, numb.
Alive.
Calm.
Intense.
Light.
Energised.
Overwhelmed.
Frightened.
Lustful.
Special.
***
I lie down on my back with my elbows propping me up. Jeremy offers me some water. Basic needs become an urgent priority as I realise just how thirsty I am. I splash it down my throat and gulp and gulp and gulp.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you hungry?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He hands me a sandwich and I take a bite. ‘Hmm, maybe I am.’
We eat and chat and chat. And chat and eat and drink as the wall I have carefully constructed to protect me from my feelings for him over the past decade crumbles more completely.
‘Can I ask you something?’ the voice beside me says.
A flash of anxiety passes through me for a millisecond and I send it away.
‘Sure. What would you like to ask me?’
‘Do you ever do it back there, any more?’ I must have looked as confused as I felt because his hand slips under my crotch and gives a little push toward my butt. ‘You know, back there.’
‘Of all the things to ask! No, I don’t. Not since you anyway,’ I explain, not in the least expecting this change in topic.
My arsehole must remember the feelings of the first time as it starts to react to our discussion.
‘Why not?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Alex,’ he says flatly.
‘This question thing is ridiculous!’
He returns to the subject he wants to discuss. ‘But you loved it.’
‘You loved it and that’s why you did it. You were obsessed with it, ever since the butt plug night and still are by the sounds of it,’ I add.
‘But your body loved it.’
‘I’m not so sure …’
‘Oh, but yes it did. Your body loved it a lot.’
He rolls me over on to my stomach and simply cups his hand over my leathered behind. Tingles immediately zap through my body as if to prove the point.
‘Well, it may have, eventually, but I didn’t,’ I say quickly, attempting to close the topic. Why is he talking about this?
‘Isn’t it one and the same?’
‘Obviously not,’ I reply.
‘Really? So you are actually admitting that your mind and body might be thinking and feeling different things?’ Oh, here we go, our age-old discussion …
‘Why are you trying to trap me with your words,